


Coffee Shop Windows

by Ironically_canon



Category: Dear Evan Hansen
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-03-08 00:43:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13446873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ironically_canon/pseuds/Ironically_canon
Summary: "Evan!"Connor called, already starting on the next order.He turned to grab something off the ordering counter and froze.His first thought was that the boy grabbing the mug had the prettiest eyes Connor had ever seen.





	1. Chapter 1

Connor set the steaming mug on the counter. "Alana!" He called, turning to start the next order. This was how most of his days flew by, save for the ones he had off, in a blur of caffeine-induced highs and whipped cream. He glanced over at the guys setting up the lighting and microphones for poetry night, which happened on wednesdays. Connor loved poetry night, and always asked for that shift, though he would never have admitted it. Maybe it was leftover paranoia from living with his hyper-masculine father, maybe it was something else, but he pretended to hate it all the same. Poetry night had an average sized group, maybe twenty people, though only about half of them read on stage. He got that, he would never have read his own poety aloud, mostly he just scribbled down thoughts on bits of paper; nothing profound, just chicken-scratch on napkins that he used on his breaks. He always threw them away when he got off his break, he wanted nobody to see them. He set the next steaming mug on the counter. "Evan!" Connor called, already starting on the next order. He turned to grab something off the ordering counter and froze. His first thought was that the boy grabbing the mug had the prettiest eyes Connor had ever seen. He shook his head, clearing away his thoughts as the boy turned away. Connor hadn't seen this boy before, but he was sure that he was in the cafe for poetry night. He wondered briefly what kind of poetry he was into, then smacked himself internally. "Quit it, you dipshit." He muttered, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. He checked his watch. His break was in a few minutes, so he hurried the next order, setting it on the counter so quickly it almost spilled. "Carly!" He called, untying his apron and hanging it up. Pulling his hair into a loose bun, he grabbed his drink and sat down at a table. He grabbed a napkin and started writing, mostly nonsense, but this kind of word vomit was one of the few things his therapist had taught him that had actually accomplished anything. He'd started seeing Dr. Carol when he was ten, and had kept with her until he'd left at seventeen. Most of what she'd taught him was shit, things his parents had told her to do to "help" him, but the few slivers of actually helpful advise had stuck into his twenties. He had a habit of internalising every emotion, every thought, to the point where he would go weeks and be fine, until he finally reached a boiling point and suddenly exploded on everyone around him. This eventually lead him to losing several jobs, all of his friends, even his family, though that wasn't completely his fault. But these short scribbles and chicken-scratch helped to get some of his emotions out, and throwing them away afterwards made him feel better. Connor was so focused on writing that she jumped out of his skin when he heard someone speak "What are you doing?" A soft voice asked, pulling him away from his thoughts. He crumpled the napkin in one hand, shoving it into his pocket casually and looking up to see who'd spoken, and found himself staring into a pair of warm brown eyes. His heart skipped a beat when he realised it was the boy from the counter - Evan, he remembered. Evan smiled, gesturing with his hand to the seat across from Connor, who nodded and sat still as the other boy sat down on the opposite side of the booth. Connor wasn't one to start a conversation with people, about half the reason he had almost no friends, so he sat, waiting for Evan to speak. "What were you doing?" He asked again, fiddling with his fingers on the wooden table. Connor blinked before responding. "Uh - I'm out of milk, I was just writing a note." Evan nodded. "Milk." He echoed thoughtfully Connor nodded back, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. After a moment of awkward silence, Connor started fidgeting with a packet of sugar. "A-are you here for poetry night?" He asked, nodding towards the stage, which now held a couple of mics. Evan nodded. "Yeah I have a friend who reads, he asked me to come." He stopped fidgeting with his fingers and set them at his sides as if he'd just realised he was doing it. "Jared. Kleinman." He added after a minute. Connor knew him. He was a regular, and the kind of person that only read poetry that he'd written about "His women" He called them. He was also rather obnoxious and loud, which Connor generally hated, so he'd never talked to the guy. "Yeah, Jared." He replied, nodding. Evan nodded back. After another awkward silence during which Connor regretted every decision he'd made wishing the last hour, Evan stood up to go. "Do you write?" Connor blurted out, desperate to keep him. Evan smiled, an amused expression on his face. "Nah, I don't even really like poetry, besides, I couldn't get up on stage." He smiled again before walking back to where he'd been sitting. Connor's heart fell a little at that, but he smiled, pulling at the napkin he didn't even realise he'd been messing with. His phone dinged; his break was over. He stood up to go back behind the counter, not even realising he'd left the napkin on the table.


	2. Chapter two

End of may or early June

Connor froze as he recognized the poem being read onstage by Jared.

How did they find it?

He ran into the back room and leaned against the wall.

I must've left it when I got off break

He took a deep breath, followed by a series of short, shaky ones as he started panicking.

I didn't leave my name, it's fine.

He took a deep breath to calm himself somewhat, followed by another few seconds of panic as he remembered


	3. Chapter 3

End of may or early June

Connor froze as he recognized the poem being read onstage by Jared.

How did they find it?

He ran into the back room and leaned against the wall.

I must've left it when I got off break

He took a deep breath, followed by a series of short, shaky ones as he started panicking.

I didn't leave my name, it's fine.

He took a deep breath to calm himself somewhat, followed by another few seconds of panic as he remembered that his handwriting was all over the fucking cafe and that someone would have noticed.

That's it. All of my dreams out for the world to see.

He smacked himself inwardly for being so dramatic.

It was just the cafe, right?

He took a calming breath and tucked his hair behind his ear, walking out confidently.

If he had expected to hear whispers and see people not-so-subtly pointing in his direction, he was surprised by the silence and lack of not-so-subtle points in his direction.

No one, it seemed, had figured out that he had written the poem, which seemed to be nearly impossible as everyone was passing around the napkin, and they were all surrounded by his handwriting.

He let out what would have sounded to anyone else a giggle, but to Connor was a manly chuckle.

Looking around in relief and disbelief, he shook his head and started on the next drink.

"Who do you think it is?"

A voice drew Connor from his thoughts and the cup of hot chocolate he was sprinkling cinnamon on.

"Hmm?"

He asked absentmindedly, turning to see who'd spoken.

He froze for a split second when he saw that it was the boy from earlier, whom he'd nicknamed Eyes.

"The poem. Who do you think wrote it?"

Eyes repeated excitedly, his eyes twinkling as his fingers drummed against the wooden counter.

Connor looked around at the signs in the cafe, shaking his head in amusement.

"I have no idea."

He replied with a smile.

Eyes raised an eyebrow, biting his lip in thought.

"I'm Evan."

He said after a moment.

Connor mirrored his expression.

"Connor."

He set the steaming mug on the counter, calling for its owner.

"Connor. I like it."

Evan said decidedly.

The lighting in the cafe illuminated the freckles on the boys face so they looked like tiny stars.

Connor shook his head and looked down at his hands, tucking a strand of hair back into his bun.

Evan tilted his head, smiling to himself.

"Well, Connor, I will talk to you later."

He smiled and turned, walking back to his table.

Connor watched him through his eyelashes, sighing as he turned to start on the next drink.


	4. Chapter 4

Two weeks.

Four poems.

Poetry night happened on wednesdays and sundays, which gave Connor time to write another in between shifts.

He was under no illusion that he'd be able to keep up the charade, he knew he didn't have enough material, and the stress to be amazing was starting to get to him, but for now, he was enjoying doing something he'd been previously shunned for.

And having something to talk to Evan about was definitely a plus.

The poetry nighters had started calling Unknown.

Someone had tried writing one, but everyone had pretty quickly figured out it was a fake.

Two weeks to the day when someone started replying.

Connor was wiping down tables after closing

With his friend Alana when he found a folded-up piece of paper.

The word

"Unnamed"

Was typed neatly across the page.

Connor unfolded it hesitantly,

Surely it had been meant to be found, right?

The title read

"Waving through a window"

And Connor smiled as he read it,

Everything he'd been feeling since highschool put into words that made his eyes sting with tears that he quickly wiped away.

"Alana!"

A short girl wearing glasses appeared in the doorway.

Alana did technically work at the cafe, but her schedule as a college student left little time for much else, including socializing, which was why Connor was basically her only friend.

"What?"

She walked over, taking the paper that he'd held out for her.

She frowned as she read it, a tear rolling down her cheek as she finished.

"Did you write this?"

She inquired, wiping her face carefully so as not to smudge her makeup.

Connor shook his head.

He took the paper from her and flipped it, showing her the name on the back.

She furrowed her brows, pushing glasses back up on her nose.

"Will you read it?"

He asked.

He was asking a lot of her, he knew.

Not that she had trouble with public speaking, but to ask for her to attend something on a school night was a lot.

She nodded without skipping a beat.

"Of course."

She replied, pulling her phone out of her pocket and tapping rapidly, no doubt moving things around on her calendar.


	5. Chapter 5

I've learned to slam on the brake.

Before I even turn the key.

Evan's pulse raced as he heard the first line of his poem was read.

It had taken a lot of convincing for him to even write a poem.

He recalled the conversation with Jared from a week earlier.

"I think I'm in love."

Evan sighed dreamily, resting his head in his hands as he sat across from his friend.

"They way they write makes me feel..."

He trailed off, trying to think of the right word.

"Euphoric."

He finished simply.

Jared rolled his eyes, taking his earbuds out.

"Then talk to them."

He replied, typing away at his laptop.

Evan furrowed his eyebrows.

"I don't know who they are, how would I talk to them?"

He asked.

Jared scoffed.

"You're an idiot. Seriously man, they're a poet, right? Just write them a poem or something."

Jared put one of his earbuds back in, drumming his fingers on the table.

Evan thought for a minute.

"I can't write poetry."

He replied.

Jared waved a hand dismissively.

"Just make some shit up.

Listen, people will find meaning in anything."

He pointed to the window.

"Take this for instance. You could say anything about it, and it means something because windows always mean something."

Evan nodded slowly.

"Okay then."

He replied, digging a pen and paper out of his backpack.

I'm tap, tap, tapping through the glass.

Waving through a window.

It had taken him a full week to write the poem, but it seemed to have captured the crowd's attention.

Evan wasn't sure who the girl was who was reading it, but she had a voice for poetry.

He felt as if he was being held above the world on a cloud, the clicheness of this was not lost on him, but he didn't care.

They loved him; or rather, they loved Unnamed, a title Jared had given him after days of trying to find a suitable name for his persona.

"Who do you think it is?"

Evan looked up, his heart skipping a beat when he saw Connor leaning on the counter behind his table.

"I, uh, I don't know."

Connor was an expression that was half amusement, and half something else that Evan couldn't put a name to.

"Well they're amazing, whoever it is."

The other boy looked at the stage, where the girl had finished reading and was walking down the short steps as applause sounded around the room.

She bounced over to Connor.

"Hey, great job,"

Connor said, giving her a high-five.

"Thanks."

She smiled brightly, her dark skin illuminated under the fairy lights.

Her phone buzzed.

She looked at it and frowned.

"Hey Con, I gotta go, but I will see you later."

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek before running out the door, purse in hand.

Evan's heart sank as he watched Connor's eyes follow the girl out the door.

He smacked himself inwardly.

Of course he has a girlfriend.

Cheekbones like that...

He sighed and stood up, and Connor's head turned to look at him.

"Leaving?"

He asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Yeah, I - I forgot I have this, this thing."

He slung his backpack over his shoulder, all sense of euphoria gone.

"Oh,"

Connor frowned, looking slightly disappointed.

Evan stomped down the little feeling of hope that sparked inside him at that.

"Yeah..."

He scratched the back of his neck and adjusted the strap of his bag awkwardly.

"Well, I'll - I'll see you later, Connor."

The other boy smiled faintly.

"Yeah, see you, Evan."

Evan shook his head and walked away before he did something stupid.


End file.
